


the start (of something new)

by robinsgotham



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - High School Musical Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Basketball, DickDamiWeek 2017, Fluff and Angst, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LOOK IT'S A LITTLE SAD AND ANGSTY BUT IT GETS BETTER, M/M, Singing, Slight Internalized Homophobia, also, lowkey musician!dick, mentioned StephCass, very slightly hinted JayRoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 00:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinsgotham/pseuds/robinsgotham
Summary: Damian Wayne was fascinating, and Dick would’ve loved to get to know him. If they’d met somewhere else, maybe…But he supposed it just wasn’t meant to be.





	the start (of something new)

**Author's Note:**

> you know what i'm not even going to make excuses. this is a self-indulgent high school musical fusion (that doesn't really follow the plot of the movie, sorry lmao) with added SOULMATES for drama and fun. written for dickdamiweek day 7: jocks/nerds. s/o to aj for the audition song suggestion *sunglasses emoji* and standard "i'm not american don't sue me over this likely painfully inaccurate depiction of the school system" disclaimer

Dick could still remember the day he got his first mark. A drawing in black sharpie, a small pattern of triangles on the inside of his wrist. He’d been thirteen. Earlier than most got their first marks, but his parents had always told him he was special.

He’d immediately picked up a glitter gel pen and drawn a star on his forearm, near his elbow. A few minutes later, a circle was drawn around the star in the same black sharpie, and he’d been more excited than he could even describe. He’d shown his parents and all his friends, excited to meet whoever his soulmate was.

He’d written his name on his arm, and waited for his soulmate’s response.

It didn’t come.

He’d written his name over and over. His address. His phone number. His email. No response, and no other marks, either. It was like his soulmate had simply vanished. While it was still early in the process — most people didn’t even get one-way communication until the age of fifteen, and sometimes later — it felt odd to have two-way communication and then just _nothing_.

Google had turned up nothing but vague “probably when you’re older” answers. So Dick was on his own.

*

Four years later, Dick had almost forgotten. Not entirely. But it was at the back of his mind, buried by other things, like schoolwork and friends and work and, of course, basketball. He’d become team captain in his junior year, and now in his senior year, he was leading the Gotham Academy Titans to win.

He didn’t think about the lack of marks on his skin, but whenever he scrawled a reminder on his hand or doodled diamonds on his arm, he wondered why he’d never gotten anything after that one time. Was his soulmate dead? Were they never going to meet?

He didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter, until one day over winter vacation he was shoved on stage to sing a love song with a boy he’d never seen before.

The boy had sharp green eyes more intense than any he’d ever seen before, and looked more scared than anyone he’d ever seen in person. “I do _not_ sing,” he was saying as Dick was shoved up on stage beside him. “Let me down, this is ridiculous—”

“Come on,” said Dick. He wasn’t sure if the boy had heard him over the crowd, but he turned to look at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion and irritation. “It’s just one song.”

“I don’t _sing_ ,” the other boy said.

“Anyone can sing. Just try.”

The words appeared on the screen, and Dick began to sing. It was a simple song, and the melody was catchy enough that he got into the rhythm quickly. His part ended, and he looked over at the other boy.

He glared at Dick, but opened his mouth, and began singing. Dick froze in place.

His voice was low, shy, hesitant, but it was beautiful. He would bet probably half of his life savings that the other boy _loved_ singing, but was just insecure about it. He had no reason to be, but Dick supposed that logic wasn’t really enough for shyness.

Dick was so entranced by the other boy’s voice that he almost missed his part, and had to tear his eyes away from the other boy to stare at the words on the screen. His part finished, and then they sang together, in the chorus. Dick took the higher part, and sang his heart out. He glanced to the side and saw a tiny smile tugging at the corner of the other boy’s mouth. He grinned.

At the end of the song, the other boy immediately took off, and Dick followed him outside. The snow was falling, and it was almost midnight. Almost the new year.

“Hey,” he said, and the other boy looked away from the snowy landscape. “I didn’t get your name?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering, quietly. “Damian. Damian Wayne.”

Dick grinned. “I’m Dick. Grayson.” Damian blinked and opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it quickly, and going a little pale. A little surprised, Dick held out a hand to shake, and after a moment, Damian took it. His hand was warm and soft and Dick’s mouth was dry when he let go.

“Hey,” he said, and then stopped. He wasn’t sure about the etiquette for this. “Do you want to… exchange numbers? Maybe?”

A flicker of surprise showed up on Damian’s face, but he nodded and pulled out his phone. Dick took it and handed his over, and they both added their numbers in. He took a selfie for the contact photo and added half a dozen emojis after his name, as it should be. When Damian handed him back his phone, he was disappointed at the simplicity — and lack of a picture.

“Dude,” he said as Damian turned away slightly. When Damian turned back to look at him, he lifted the phone and snapped a photo. “Got it. Thanks.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but Dick was sure he saw a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth again. Man, this kid was just a bundle of repressed emotions. Dick had only just met him and it was already obvious. “All right. See you around, Grayson.”

“Yeah.” Dick didn’t say anything about how unlikely that was, just watched as the other boy disappeared into the crowd. He heaved a sigh.

Damian Wayne was fascinating, and he would’ve loved to get to know him. If they’d met somewhere else, maybe…

But he supposed it just wasn’t meant to be.

*

That night, when Dick was almost ready to fall into bed, he noticed something. A tiny music note, drawn on the inside of his left wrist. The first mark from his soulmate for years. He snapped a picture in excitement and fell asleep a few minutes later. By the time he woke up the next morning, it was gone. If it weren’t for the picture, and the certainty that he didn’t have a green pen and especially not on this trip, he would’ve thought he’d drawn it himself, or just imagined it.

*

There was a new kid in Dick’s homeroom, he’d heard from Roy, and so he, like almost everyone in the class, was watching the classroom door when the bell went off. Mr. Kent started reading off attendance, and Dick slumped down in his seat, disappointed but not terribly surprised that Roy had been wrong.

At least, until Mr. Kent got down to the end of attendance and added a new name. “Damian Wayne?”

Dick sat straight up in his chair. A small murmur ran through the class; so this was the name of the new kid.

Mr. Kent sighed. “I suppose he’d probably still getting the school tour. All right. Ms. Lance has asked me to remind all students that auditions for the spring musical are coming up, and there are solo parts and a duet, so be sure to sign up on the signup sheet if you’re interested…”

The door opened, and the entire class stared as Ms. Prince led Damian Wayne into the classroom.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “This is Damian Wayne, he just moved here. Mr. Kent?”

“Thank you, Ms. Prince,” said Mr. Kent. “Damian, please take a seat.”

Dick stared as Damian took the seat directly in front of him. Yeah, it was definitely the same kid he’d met on his vacation. Damian was wearing a dark green hoodie with earbuds dangling out the front, and he had his hands stuffed in his pockets and a slumped poster that screamed discomfort and a desire to be literally anywhere else. He hadn’t looked at Dick for more than a second.

Mr. Kent spent a few more minutes droning on about extracurricular activities, and when the bell finally rang, Damian was up and out the door in seconds. Dick slung his bag over his shoulder and had to run to follow Damian, only barely managing to grab his arm just outside the classroom.

“Hey!” he said, and winced internally at how excited he sounded. “It’s me! Dick! From New Year’s?”

Damian nodded. “I remember. You installed emojis on my phone.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have them! And how were you supposed to know who I was without—”

“The basketball, microphone, firework, snowflake, waving, and sunshine emojis? No idea. Although I also had the picture of you. And I don’t know anyone else named Dick Grayson.”

“I guess.” Dick ran his hand through his hair. He felt oddly nervous talking to this kid. And he had only just realized that Damian was a hair taller than him. He had other friends — was that what they were? Friends? — that were taller than him, but for some reason, the fact that _Damian_ was gave Dick a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pushed past it. “Do you know where your next class is? I could walk you…”

Damian looked as though he were about to protest, but after a moment he just shrugged and told Dick the classroom number. It was close, and on the way to Dick’s next class, so Dick led Damian there at maybe a more leisurely pace than he should have. He asked a few questions — where was Damian from, when did he move to Gotham, why did he move to Gotham — but didn’t get more than evasive and vague answers. It would have been frustrating, but it almost made Damian seem more appealing — more mysterious.

Upon realizing that this was his reaction to the situation, Dick had to admit to himself that he might have a little bit of a crush.

It was okay, though. As he dropped Damian off at the classroom, he reasoned that it was fine. His soulmate didn’t care about him, or wasn’t really there at all, so other crushes — or even other relationships — were no big deal. He’d even dated before, something few people with soulmates tried.

It was fine. But somehow, this felt different. Almost like a bigger betrayal.

*

The rest of the day until lunch passed normally, and Dick had almost forgotten about the Damian situation when his phone buzzed just after the lunch bell rang.

**_Damian:_ ** _It’s Damian. Is it alright if I sit with you at lunch? The only people I know here are my siblings and I don’t want to sit with them today._

**_Dick:_ ** _sure! ill meet you by the door of the caf?_

**_Damian:_ ** _Okay, thank you._

After Dick had paid for his lunch, he made his way to the door, and found Damian waiting there, holding a lunch kit and looking distinctly out of place. He was fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie as Dick approached him.

“Do you want to sit somewhere quiet?” Dick asked. Damian nodded. “Follow me. I know a place.”

*

The roof gardens, despite the cold winter, were blooming gloriously in the greenhouse. Dr. Isley, the part-time biology teacher and part-time university lecturer, had an almost magic way with plants, even through the toughest of Gotham’s weather. Dick made his way over to a bench, and Damian sat down beside him, almost hesitantly.

“So,” said Dick, taking a bite of his burger, “what grade are you in?”

Damian blinked. “Junior. I should be a sophomore, but I skipped a grade, so I’m in the same grade as my brother Tim.”

“Oh, cool. I’m a senior.”

“Same as my brother Jason and my sister Cass, then.”

“Cool.” Dick took another bite. The silence wasn’t quite awkward, but it felt a little tense. “So, you never said why you moved to Gotham?”

Damian shrugged. “I was born here, as were my brothers, but we moved around for a while. We’ve been living mostly in Europe and Asia for a few years, and we only just moved back for our father’s business.”

“Your father… Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes.”

_Oh_. Bruce Wayne, billionaire orphan, famous for his charitable donations and the outreach for the poor and the mentally ill in his company. Dick had known, vaguely, that he had children, and that only the youngest — Damian, it seemed — was biological, and the rest were adopted. He’d also heard some strange, disturbing things about Damian’s childhood — custody battles, severe and horrific abuse from his maternal grandfather and extreme neglect from his mother. It had been a huge story when Bruce had finally gotten full custody and taken the al Ghuls to court over the abuse. And then he’d left his company in the hands of the board and travelled Europe and Asia with his children. Until last November, when he’d finally come back.

Damian was watching him with a wry expression. “So you’ve read the news articles, I suppose. You have the same expression that most people do when they connect the dots.”

“Uh — yeah.” He cleared his throat. “So, are you thinking of joining any extracurriculars?”

Damian looked half relieved and half entirely incredulous. “I… yes. The math club—”

Dick snorted a little. He couldn’t help it. “That’s possibly the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard. But I’m a jock, so I guess I’d find any academics nerdy.”

Damian laughed a little. “Probably.”

“What about the musical?”

Damian looked sideways at him a little. “I told you, I don’t sing.”

“But you did. And you’re great at it! We should totally try out for the duet.”

Damian snorted. “Right.”

“Look, please? Just for me?”

It looked for a moment as though Damian was about to throw down his homemade lunch and storm off, but the nerves in his eyes died a moment later, and he sighed. “…Alright.”

“Really?” Dick hadn’t really expected him to give in so easily.

“Do not make me regret this, Grayson. Send me an audition song to learn, and I’ll practice tonight. The auditions are next week, we don’t have much time.” Damian stood and walked off then.

Dick sat there for almost ten more minutes, until the bell rang, puzzling over the mystery that was Damian Wayne.

*

He caught up to Damian at the end of the school day, and managed to drag him over to the audition sheets to do the honours. Damian scowled as he scrawled his name in spiky, heavy writing. Then, hesitating for brief moment, he wrote Dick’s name as well.

“There,” he said, handing Dick back the sharpie. “Have you chosen an audition song?”

“Yeah,” said Dick. “I’ll send you the sheet music.”

Damian rolled his eyes and muttered something about a “ridiculous and pointless audition”, but then paused. “You don’t have my email.”

“Oh, right. Here—”

He reached for Damian’s hand with the sharpie, and Damian jerked away like he’d been burned.

Dick frowned. “Um—”

“I have paper,” he said, voice slightly panicked, and Dick slowly took the piece of scrap paper that he held out like a shield. He wrote his email on the paper and handed it back.

“Send me something and I’ll respond with the music.”

Damian nodded, and disappeared into the end-of-day crowd. Dick stood there for a long moment, both confused and worried. Sure, some people avoided writing on their skin so they wouldn’t irritate their soulmates, and maybe Damian hadn’t connected with his yet and didn’t want their first impression to be someone else’s email, but the way he’d reacted had been almost _fearful_. The mystery was only deepening.

*

Damian didn’t seem especially pleased at how Dick had rearranged the traditionally male-female duet, but grudgingly admitted over email that his part was within his range and easy to learn. It felt like a victory to Dick. The auditions were at the end of the week, so they had three more days to practice.

At lunch, Dick found Damian in the hallway.

“Do you have time to go practice now?” Damian nodded, and Dick grabbed his arm, dragging him to an empty music room and setting up his sheet music.

“Your taste in music is abysmal,” Damian said as Dick played a short piano warmup. Dick snorted.

“It’s a good audition duet.”

“It’s adequate.”

He played the opening chords of “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher, and Damian sighed.

*

The practice went well. Dick realized, shortly into it, that their voices went really well together. Of course, they’d sung together before, but it was easier to hear outside of the noise of the New Year’s party. They stopped practicing ten minutes before the end of lunch break to finish eating quickly and get back to class, and agreed to meet at the same time tomorrow. Dick really wanted to get the leads of the musical, which was surprising even to him, because he’d always been a jock. But he wanted to branch out, to embrace his musical talent along with his athletic one.

Which reminded him: he had basketball practice after school. The first practice of the semester.

The Gotham Academy Titans were the school’s pride and joy. They won almost every year. Which meant that as its captain, Dick had a very serious position in the school, and everyone involved in athletics was watching him like a hawk.

Which meant, of course, the coach noticed he was off his game immediately.

“GRAYSON!”

Dick sighed, and jogged over to where the coach was standing. Oliver Queen may have been a bit of an airhead, but he was a damn good coach.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You’re sloppy. And distracted. We have a game in two weeks that we can’t lose again to the Metropolis team. So whatever’s distracting you, take care of it, and focus on this. Only this. Got it?”

Dick nodded.

*

He knew he should’ve taken Coach Queen’s advice, should’ve practiced as much as he could, should’ve spent hours outside practicing every move he could. But he sat at the upright piano that his parents had scrounged up the money for when their digital keyboard broke and Dick wanted to keep playing, and played the audition song over and over, singing until his throat hurt and playing until his fingers were sore. He’d stopped playing regularly once he’d joined the basketball team, and he was out of practice, but the soreness in his fingertips and wrists felt right, felt like it was supposed to be that way.

He thought of Damian, the way their voices had sounded together, and the inside of his wrist — where he’d drawn a treble clef to remind himself to practice — tingled a little.

*

Damian was wearing a bracelet on his left wrist the next day when they met at lunch, a thick one that looked like several friendship bracelets sewn together. He blushed a little when he saw Dick looking at it.

“My sister made it,” he mumbled, and maybe it was Dick’s imagination, but he seemed to be staring at the treble clef on Dick’s wrist.

“Okay,” Dick said after a moment. He placed his fingers on the keys, wincing a little. He’d definitely overdone it last night, but he was still ready to play. There was something magical about a piano, the way the simple white and black keys combined to make something so beautiful. “Do you play an instrument?”

Damian shrugged. “I had violin lessons for a while, so I can play that fairly well. But I’m more of an artist.”

“What do you draw?”

“Animals, mostly. Let’s not waste any more time.”

Dick held back a smile as he played the opening notes.

*

Coach Queen yelled at him in practice again. After he showered and was sitting in his car, he shot Damian a text.

**_Dick:_ ** _Wanna hang?_

He got a response within a minute.

**_Damian:_ ** _Where?_

He grinned.

*

They met at Damian’s house, which was even more intimidating that it looked in pictures. A sleek gate retreated into the wall surrounding the property as he approached in his car, and when he knocked on the massive doors, an elderly man in a suit answered.

“Master Damian is waiting for you upstairs. Please follow me, Mr…?”

“Ah — Dick. Grayson.”

“Mr. Grayson.”

Dick followed him up the stairs and down a short hall, where he knocked on a door like all the others. Damian’s voiced called out “what?” from behind it, and the older man sighed.

“Your guest is here, Master Damian.”

The door swung open a moment later. “Thank you, Pennyworth.”

“A pleasure.” The man — butler? — disappeared, and Dick stepped into Damian’s room.

It was a little sparse, but he supposed Damian had only just moved back in. There were some boxes stacked in the corners, and the only things on the wall were sketches, mostly birds with a few cats and dogs. All in the same art style — Damian’s art, Dick realized. It was really good.

Damian seemed to realize where Dick was looking, and blushed. “Those are just — sketches.”

“If they’re sketches, I’d love to see something that you actually put work into,” Dick said, and Damian blushed even deeper.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asked, and Dick shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what was the best thing to do while hanging out. Generally with his friends they just played basketball before eating a ridiculous amount of pizza. Which, come to think of it, was a bit of a sad way to spend all of his leisure time.

Damian selected an action/spy thriller, and they ate popcorn while they sat on Damian’s bed and watched on his laptop, and Dick felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

*

Practice the next day was even more brutal. This time, he got asked to go to Coach Queen’s office after. He approached the way he might have approached a firing squad, and knocked on the door. “Come in,” came immediately, and he stepped inside.

Coach Queen was sitting at his desk, feet propped up next to a prominent picture of last year’s Gotham Academy Titans and the trophy they’d taken home last year.

“You’re distracted,” he said without preamble. “I’ve told you this already. Told you to focus. It’s just for the next couple of weeks, I said. Just practice until you can’t move, and then more, every day until our game. Not unreasonable. The rest of the team is doing it.”

He unfolded his feet and took them off the desk, standing and bracing his hands in the middle of the polished wood. Dick’s only thought was that he looked utterly like a CEO in that moment.

“But you aren’t. Sure, you’re good. Fantastic, even. But you’re not pushing yourself. And today, my lovely wife mentions offhand that you’re auditioning for the spring play.”

Dick didn’t say a word.

Coach Queen stared him down, and sighed.

“Look, I like it when my team is well-rounded. It’s nice when you have something to say to the reporters other than ‘Basketball is my life’. But right now is not the time for distraction. Dinah has said that the final callback, assuming you make it, will be after the game. So I expect more efforts from you after the audition. Twice as much as your teammates. Three times as much.”

Coach Queen sighed, and sat back down, picking up a basketball that had been behind his desk for some reason and casually spinning it on one finger.

“Because if you don’t shape up, you’re no longer team captain.”

Dick dug his nails into the palm of his hand, and nodded.

*

The next day was the day of the audition.

Dick woke up an hour early, spent twenty minutes practicing basketball out of sheer guilt, took a shower, and spent thirty minutes singing his part over and over again. It was ridiculous, he probably knew it by heart already, but when he thought of not getting a callback and no longer having a reason to spend time with Damian, his throat got uncomfortably tight and he felt almost adrift.

He dragged Damian into the music room at lunch and they sang their parts over and over until Damian finally called it quits, claiming he needed to “eat his lunch”. Dick sighed, and let him go, sitting in front of the piano alone until the bell rang. He scarfed down his sandwich on the way to his next class.

*

Somehow, the team had found out about Dick auditioning. They filled the front two rows of the auditorium, and Ms. Lance stared at them open-mouthed for a solid minute when she came into the room. She snapped quickly back into professionalism, and sat down, calling up the first auditioning soloist.

The solo auditions took almost an hour. Dick sat with Damian, away from his teammates, and clapped politely after each person finished singing. After they were all done, Ms. Lance spent a couple minutes writing notes before setting down her pen and calling out, “Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne!”.

The team went wild as they made their way to the stage. Damian was a little pale, so Dick gently punched his shoulder. “You got this.”

Damian made that odd “tt” noise of his, but didn’t say anything else, just took his place centre stage. Dick handed the sheet music to the pianist, and joined him.

Afterwards, Dick didn’t remember much except Damian’s elated smile when they finished the song and the team went wild cheering.

*

The other two duet auditions went by quickly, and soon Dick was in the hallway, about to head home. His team had disappeared after his audition, so he was alone. Until Damian approached him.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he said as a greeting, and Dick’s pulse skyrocketed. Here was the moment that Damian told him that he was giving up, that this was fun but he didn’t want to do the musical, and where their friendship ended. A pit of loneliness was opening inside Dick’s chest, and he would be alone forever—

“Can you come over to my house?” he said after a brief moment, and Dick nodded, feeling slightly relieved. Well, at least Damian probably wasn’t calling it quits for the musical, if they were going all the way to his house. But the feeling in his chest didn’t go away.

*

In Damian’s room, its owner seemed very engaged in petting a cat. Dick sat on the bed, still feeling uneasy. Finally Damian set the cat down on the bed — where it curled immediately into a ball and purred louder — and turned to him.

“My grandfather,” he said without preamble, “was a very cruel man.”

Dick nodded, when it became clear Damian was waiting for a response.

“He didn’t approve of many things. Art. Recreation in general. Pets. A pain-free childhood. I don’t know what my mother thought of his… methods. I never saw her.” Damian sighed, and reached down to scratch the cat’s head. It purred contently. “He was also very homophobic. He was very traditional, and believed that the only true soulmate bonds were between a man and a woman. That anything else was cursed. And that sleeping with someone, or falling in love, outside of a bond is against the very nature of humanity. That, I’ve only recently realized, may be why I never saw my mother.”

Dick’s heart rate was starting to pick up. His subconscious probably knew exactly where this was going, he realized later.

“When I was eleven, I got my first soul mark. This was the middle of my father’s court battle to get me out of R’as’s custody, and may have been the deciding factor. Because when he saw the name written on my arm, he beat me worse than he ever had before, and took away everything I could use to write before locking me in a small room with barely any food. I didn’t get out until my father won the battle a month later, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Damian finally looked away from the cat and back at Dick. He produced a pen out of his pocket, and purposefully uncapped it. He drew a circle on his arm, looking at Dick all the while.

A tingling sensation ran down Dick’s arm as the circle appeared. Same place. Same drawing.

Damian… Damian was…

Dick opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. Damian capped the pen and dropped it unceremoniously on the bed, looking away again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you earlier. It’s just… every time I thought of it, every time I almost drew on my skin, all I can hear is what my grandfather said to me.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” Dick said softly.

“Do not apologize. You couldn’t have known.”

A kinder way of saying that it was Dick’s fault. That was fair. It was.

He reached over and wrapped his arms around Damian. For a moment, Damian was stiff with surprise, but then he relaxed into the embrace and lifted his arms to wrap around Dick’s back.

They stayed like that for a long time.

*

Later, Damian pulled off his shirt, and showed Dick the scars that dotted his torso, quietly explaining them while Dick traced them with his eyes and fingers. A burn scar on his shoulder, right next to his collarbone. A jagged curved scar on the back of his left arm, from being shoved against a wall with a broken piece of concrete jutting out. Faint, rough scar tissue covering one shoulder blade completely, from being dragged across the floor after getting his first soulmark. A tiny cut on his face, just under his eye, that Dick had never noticed before. Also from the fallout of the soulmark.

It took everything Dick had not to break down right then.

*

Dick went home around eight, and grabbed his basketball and went outside. He hadn’t eaten, but he let himself fall into the mindless rhythm of practice, the sound of the ball hitting the ground a drumbeat that kept him from disappearing into his thoughts entirely. He was trying not to think about what Damian had told him.

He was happy that he’d found his soulmate. His heart was shattering from hearing about the horrors that Damian had endured.

It didn’t seem real, that this would still happen in the 21st century. He’d thought, naively, that most people had moved on. Accepted that sometimes people had soulmates of the same gender, and that the numbers were increasing. That any examples of this kind of bigotry were rare.

Maybe they still were, but the rarity didn’t seem to matter when he’d seen Damian’s scars. That had been what nearly broke him, more so than the context for them.

A boy like Damian shouldn’t have those kinds of scars. No one should. Seeing them in front of his eyes… he didn’t think he’d ever see the world the same way again.

*

Dick almost didn’t go to school the next day, but the phantom horror of Coach Queen showing up at his house got him out the door early enough to get in a practice before homeroom. Damian wasn’t at homeroom, when he got there five minutes late. He almost texted before remembering that they had a much better method of communication.

As Mr. Kent droned on about something or other, Dick uncapped his pen and hesitated over his arm. Was it a good idea? After what he’d heard?

He decided that Damian had been seeing random words and doodles from him for years already, and directed marks had to be at least a little better. Maybe.

He wrote “are u okay??? ur not in class”

A response came almost immediately, in a black pen with sharp and decisive handwriting. “Do you have to use chatspeak?”

“yes. where u”

“Running late. I’ll see you at lunch.” A pause. “If you want to see me.”

“of course I do!!!!”

There was no response, but Dick was almost sure he could feel faint relief from Damian.

*

He realized, halfway through the morning, that he probably needed to practice during lunch. So he texted Damian — he was running out of arm space — and asked if they could meet in the gym. Damian agreed, and when it was finally lunchtime, he found himself practicing while Damian ate lunch and read his book in the bleachers.

They didn’t talk, but it wasn’t awkward. It was surprisingly comforting. Afterwards, when Dick got out of the shower and had to race to his next class, he drew a heart on the inside of his wrist as he walked/ran down the hall.

Damian responded with a bigger heart a minute later, and he smiled, warmth bubbling in his chest.

*

They got the callback. Dick drew a ton of exclamation points on his arm, and Damian responded with a surprisingly (or not so surprisingly; he was an artist, after all) clear picture of a person rolling their eyes.

*

Roy, of course, realized exactly what was going on when he saw the writing on Dick’s arm before practice that afternoon.

“Dude!” he shouted in Dick’s ear — the changing room was always a bit loud just before practice — “you met your soulmate!”

Dick nodded, and pulled on his jersey, hoping that the manner was over, but of course it wasn’t.

“Who is it?” asked Roy as they walked towards the gym. Dick pretended to be very engaged in his basketball. Roy grabbed his shoulder. “Really, dude.”

He sighed. He supposed there was no way Roy wouldn’t find out eventually. “It’s Damian Wayne.”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up. “The weird kid?”

“Yeah, the weird kid.”

“His brother’s my lab partner, he’s told me the weirdest shit about him. You two auditioned for the musical together? That’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard, Grayson.”

“Shut the fuck up, Harper.”

Roy laughed, even as Dick threw a basketball at his head.

*

The game approached rapidly, and before Dick knew it, it was the day of. Damian was in the crowd with his family, wearing the Gotham Academy colours.

Dick couldn’t remember most of the game, but after they’d won and most of Gotham’s student body came down onto the floor of the gym, Damian swept him into a crushing hug, and, high off of winning the game, Dick kissed him.

Damian froze for a moment, and Dick was sure he’d made a horrible mistake, but a moment later Damian kissed him back. He could hear wolf-whistles from most of the team in the background, but the moment was perfect enough that he didn’t care.

*

After the game, Damian introduced Dick to his family. Tim was very nice. Cass was also very nice, but had a certain look in her eyes that promised great pain if you hurt those she cared about. Steph — Cass’s soulmate, and apparently practically one of the family — actually went farther and whispered “if you hurt him, we will hurt you FAR more, kiddo” in Dick’s ear when she hugged him. Dick wasn’t sure why the “kiddo” was necessarily, especially considering she was Tim’s age and thus younger than him, but he didn’t question it. Jason was less open and friendly, but seemed nice enough when he introduced himself. Bruce was exactly as intimidating as he seemed in the magazines, in the pictures where he held back the paparazzi from his children. He had a look in his eyes very similar to Cass’s.

“Your family is scary,” Dick told Damian after, while they waited in the parking lot for nothing in particular. Damian laughed. It was the first time Dick had heard him laugh.

“They were like that when we met Steph, too. Don’t worry. They’ll adapt to you as well.”

Dick smiled at the idea of being folded into the Wayne family the way Steph seemed to be. He threaded his fingers with Damian’s, and let the high of the game and the soft warmth of Damian’s presence lull him into a state of near-bliss.

*

Their final audition had a frantic buildup. They practiced all the time. Now that Dick had met the family, they deemed it necessary that he come over to practice instead of doing it at the school or at his house, so he found himself in Bruce Wayne’s music room using a grand piano that hadn’t been in frequent use for at least a decade and possibly longer.

Usually at least one other member of the family would just “happen” to be in the room — Cass examining the collection of ukuleles, Steph dusting the string instruments, Tim doing homework, Jason just sitting in the corner and not even pretending to be paying attention to anything but their practice. Dick would’ve thought that they were trying to intimidate him, or making sure that he and Damian weren’t just having sex instead of practicing, but when he mentioned it, Damian just shook his head.

“They’re just protective of me. Not in that way. But they know how I can get… upset, sometimes, and it helps if they’re there.”

“What kind of upset?” Dick asked, and regretted it when he saw Damian’s expression.

“Just memories,” he said, and Dick decided not to push it.

They had about a week after the game, so they practiced every day. They even added in small dance moves, which Damian was extremely reluctant to do until Dick pointed out that dancing would be necessary if they got the roles. On the night before their final audition, they performed their audition song for the whole family in the Wayne manor library. Even Dick’s parents showed up.

“I think we’re about as ready as we can be,” Dick said after their families had left them alone.

“Hopefully,” said Damian.

*

The whole team came again for this rehearsal, along with Damian’s family — the ones who attended the school, at least. Roy and Jason sat together, which made Dick happy, for some reason. They seemed suited for each other, he thought.

Backstage, Damian was looking a little green. Dick carefully rubbed his back. “You okay?”

Damian nodded. “Fine. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

*

The team and Damian’s family seemed to be competing for the loudest cheers when they finished, the final note still hanging in the air. Somehow, despite Cass not even helping, the family won. Although probably just because Roy helped them. Traitor.

*

**_THE LEAD ROLES GO TO:_ **

**_DICK GRAYSON AND DAMIAN WAYNE_ **

“We did it,” said Damian. Dick just grinned, and leaned in to kiss him again. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of it.


End file.
